"The bugs began ... infesting people in the service of the ship's captain, their queen. They -- they hollowed you out, subverted your will to the interests of the hive. It was some time before I realized I'd been affected. My mind felt like my own, while my priorities simply shifted."

Dimitri swallows. "I don't know how far it would have gotten. It began urging me -- I began wanting to bring Darcy into the hive. It tried to divert my loyalty to Faerghus. Worst of all, it felt -- natural, normal, even as I knew that something was impossibly wrong. And I knew that unless I did ... something drastic ... I would soon stop feeling anything was wrong at all.

"I convinced myself -- the hive -- that another passenger was a threat too dangerous to risk taking alive. I attacked her with intent to kill, and she defended herself in the only way I allowed her. I swear to you -- " He puts his other hand over Dedue's, leaning in with desperate urgency. "I swear to you, if there had been any other way, I would have found it. I know of no one who was freed of the hive by any means but death. I had to -- to fail in my convictions, in my duties -- I would rather die than live as a mockery of every oath I've sworn. And I did."

Despite the grief in the story, and Dimitri's plea for understanding, there's a swell of pride.